Aloft in Reality
by peachandbetty
Summary: Heero Yuy was a pleasant by-product of her space-bound visits but at daylight, she belonged to the world. That it until a conference goes horribly wrong and the balance she'd worked so hard to keep begins to tipple.


It wasn't many mornings she woke up like this, but these were certainly her favourite kind.

The smell of her normal morning coffee was notably absent, and the rustle of cloth curtains caught themselves on a breeze, did not forewarn the unwanted intrusion of sunlight. The sheets were a rich satin, not at all like the soft, worn cotton she was used to, and far too luxurious for her tastes. But such was expected when the Vice, soon to be Foreign Minister, made a visit to almost anywhere other than home.

She detangled her legs from the uppermost layer of the sheeting, surprised she'd managed to keep it on the bed at all for the heat last night, and slipped out of bed. She could tell it was daylight from the crack in her curtains but she expected no interruptions. She'd explained to the owner of the establishment, a gentleman who had been clearly enamoured with the prospect and prestige that came with her stay here, that when she was away from home she preferred to keep things as simple as possible. The most important luxury, she had imparted, was to simply enjoy a restless sleep into a gentle morning. He'd acquiesced to her request, as all the others had, and by her reckoning it must be nearly 9 o' clock. A luxury indeed.

She walked over to where her laptop sat on standby on the suite table, tapping in her password to view her schedule for the day. Trips space-bound were never too eventful, but she was required to allow for more time than was necessary in case of conflicts or last minute bookings. People had a habit of 'bumping into her' when she visited other offices, which she didn't mind at all. It must be frustrating in their position to try and reach her by any other means.

She needed to be at the parliamentary office on X-10443 by 10:30, more than enough time to take an extended bath and to break her fast. The last time she'd stayed here, she'd been served some very moreish pastries, layered with more butter than was strictly healthy for a young growing woman, and she made a note to pick some up on her way out.

She felt warm breath fan across her neck and leaned back into it, a small curling at her lips and in that moment she felt so much like a spoilt kitten she could purr. A large hand came from behind her to adjust the screen to his view while the other rested on her hip and absently played with the bare skin there. At that point, she was certain she did purr.

"Shipping policy. Not your normal area of expertise." He said, voice still rough from sleep. It was among her most favourite sounds, both because she was one of very few to have heard it and because it assured her he, with all that danced intrusively across his mind, had rested as much as she.

"I've only been asked to provide some insight from a diplomatic perspective, not the detail in itself," she explained, her voice soft from the warmth of recent sleep in her limbs and a pleasant ache at the hands of the man who had accompanied her. "L3 have a historical gripe with L1 for their fuel levies that could make things a little tense."

Her stomach trembled a little with hunger, she was sure he would have felt it under his hand, and she was reminded of her priorities. Heero Yuy was a pleasant by-product of her space-bound visits but at daylight, she belonged to the world.

"You should eat," his voice rumbled quietly next to her ear, as always seemingly reading her mind, and the warmth of him retreated from her naked skin. The loss, and the slight chill on her back, was an anchor to reality.

Taking a deep break, she readied herself to face the day, and the myth and mystery of the night faded like a dream.

"The maids will be up at midday to clean the suite," she informed him as she walked over to the bathroom, going inside quickly to turn the hot water over the tub before re-emerging to see him monitoring the city below from their rooftop vantage point. Sometimes, she believed he must have been a bird of prey in a former life.

He turned his head to meet her eyes and nodded his understanding. He would be out of the way without a trace, and they would spend the coming weeks alone with their memories and quiet anticipation, and reading between the lines and words of the scant messages sent in between. There was no other person alive that knew they even kept in touch, and that suited both of them fine. In these moments, the world outside disappeared. Neither had any need for the inside and the out to touch.

"Be careful today," he spoke, just as she was about to close the bathroom door and she poked her head back around, curious at his tone. He had a tendency to warn her against the unnecessary, as was his unique way of expressing his affection, but this was more than just a veiled farewell.

He broke contact with whatever he had been staring at below and faced her, grabbing his belt from where it had been slung over the back of an oak dining chair. "Paparazzi." He pointed to the side of his neck, just above where she had left red crescents embedded in his skin only a few hours prior and she blushed at his meaning, thankful she wasn't exposed enough for him to see it travel down her recently marked neck. The Relena of night may sleep nude on satin sheets and make love to a dangerous man but Relena of the day time didn't need reminders of the fact.

He'd already begun pulling his belt through the loop and she took once last glance at him before closing the bathroom door. He'd be gone by the time she was done, but he always stayed to say goodbye, as he'd promised her five years ago nearly to this day.

She dipped her toes into the water to test it and bit her lip against the biting sting as she got used to the heat. She rarely had the time for a hot bath, and she intended to enjoy it. As she lay back into the water, the spotlights above her played colours on her eyelids as her body hummed with the heat.

The paparazzi aside, Heero's warning stuck in her mind, and she knew he wasn't just talking about a few wagging tongues and flashing cameras. But, in space, where she went an eagle-eyed shadow followed.

 _Goodbye for now._

"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves, gentlemen." Relena cut in, forcing an edge into her voice as the two men either side of the grand oak table head crept steadily further across it with a higher volume than she would be able to match if they kept it up.

They seemed to back down a little at her tone, if only by the slightest retreat of bristled shoulders and she temporarily longed for the days some manner of decorum would grace the halls of this former Alliance conference room. She would instil it where it was absent, for the sake of a productive intercourse, because that was what she did. She mediated. Not everybody liked it, but that was how it was.

But at that moment, she herself was falling into that category.

"Secretary Haines, I understand your position in regards to the need for the levies…" She began, before a loud slam on the table interrupted her yet again.

"Minister Darlian, you cannot sanction this. It's nothing short of discrimination!" The trade secretary of L3 was up off his seat again in a graceless clamour, his face resembling the beetroot she'd had in her morning charcuterie. She felt her compassions towards both plummet at a rapid rate and she fought herself to keep objective. Heero had once told her that to remain balanced required the ability to empathise with no one. She'd disagreed with him at the time but in her later years she'd seen the merit.

"Gentlemen, I warn you," she could hear her voice drop in temperature, but the alternative was to heat it up and then this really would be over. "If either of you raises his voice in this room, even once more, I shall petition for a change in representation."

With the threat of their jobs hanging thickly in the air, the two men shot each other a final glare before begrudgingly taking their seats. Relena took a quick glance at the clock behind them and noted it was about time for tea. She would be grateful for the recess and perhaps some time to cool off was needed in this situation. Nothing progressive could possibly come out of this the way things were.

"Secretary Haines, may I ask you to please call for tea?" She asked, gentle politeness soothing back into her voice and an acquiescing nod of his head and lack of protestation from the opposing party told her that she'd made the right call.

 _Be careful today._

She didn't know why Heero's words suddenly made their reappearance in her mind, but she ignored them. With all that was going on right now she couldn't afford to let anything upset the precarious balance in this room.

As the door opened behind her, she barely noticed the china teacup being set down in front of her. They knew her preferences at this point, and simple black tea was poured with the steam misting her face. Without thinking too much about it, she reached down beside her to pull a sachet of white powder from her purse. Saccharine, she tells her colleagues, trying to cut down on sugar, but Heero had kept her well trained and armed after a simple tea had once famously led to her capture.

The powder slipped in and when the lack of foam or discolouration confirmed it was safe to drink she allowed the earthy brew to slide down her throat, cleansing and utterly glorious.

Haines, a skinny man with a beak for a nose, was looking notably smug from her earlier statement. She knew she would have to disappoint him. The levies were just, in a sense. The majority of L1's transport was destined for L2, L4 and L5, its close neighbours. L3 was many times that distance and they could not expect to get the same goods for the same price. That said, the goods in question were essential. L1 was the only manufacturer of Link-Galva panels, which Heero had explained to her allowed a colony to absorb sunlight on the hull, both powering the colony and preventing it from becoming a literal oven when the sun came into view. No panels. No colony. It would be morally wrong to deny one cluster the goods, but not give them the choice in the matter of payment. A monopoly could lead to economic disadvantage in L3 which, as a major mobile suit manufacturer, was already struggling to recoup its wartime losses and suffering trade.

It was a dilemma, and after the morning she'd had so far she childishly wished Heero was there with her to help her make sense of things. He had a way of enabling her to take the disarray in her head and smooth them out into strong, solid plans of action and at that moment it was something she was utterly failing at. A pang of something painful blossomed in her, the same pains she'd felt as she watched her precariously built kingdom burn to the ground, and she drained her tea cup as though to swallow down her own thoughts.

As she watched the two secretaries diplomatically ignore each other she knew one thing was for certain.

Today, she was going to make an enemy.

It wasn't a common thing for the Foreign Minister to spend any more than a night or two in the colonies at any one time, other than for an annual summit held at a new colony each year that lasted a week. So when he received a seemingly innocent email from her asking if he knew a pharmacy open late, the voice between the lines had him concerned.

A few years ago, when leaving her house after a lengthy recovery, something had felt oddly final about it and it didn't sit well with either of them. He'd made her promise, selfishly, that she wouldn't keep secrets from him for the sake of her own bewildering desire to protect him.

Since then, she'd certainly kept no secrets, and messages sent back and forth between them contained meanings he'd had to think long and hard about, in case he'd misinterpret. When they saw each other next, spending her eighteenth birthday in an L4 colony with a certain friend they both knew well, she'd left no room for interpretation. That night, Heero did as he was taught and acted on what felt right; one way or another, she'd become a woman that night, as he'd affirmed every night she'd been in space since.

There followed months and years of messages, from this woman whose place in his life he didn't think was right to define, in a way of some twisted tradition. He could be at home, eating breakfast and she would make his lips quirk with her odd sense of humour or in the lab and the undertone of her message would serve to stir certain parts of his anatomy. She'd asked him for his opinion, for his knowledge, and for favours of a more physical nature. But not once in that time since leaving her mansion had she asked him for help. A pharmacy at night…

 _Something has gone wrong; it's urgent._

Relena opened the door slightly and peered through the crack. There were guards and attendants lined neatly along the corridor and she knew there were two also standing vigil either side of the room she was in. There were cameras on the corner, and she suspected in other places not visible to her, as expected from a parliamentary building.

She closed the door gently, so as to not draw attention from outside the room and checked her virtual PA, the sweat on her palms sliding against the smooth plastic. No new messages. Either he'd chosen the worst moment in history to begin ignoring her emails or he was on his way. She pressed her back against the door and slid down, feeling as though her legs had been holding her for weeks and the pressure behind her eyes threatened to breach.

She could not break down right now. Not ever. Definitely not in front of him. But her throat constricted painfully as she fought to stay calm, swallowing air and she knew that when she speaks she would sound every bit the panic she felt.

 _This cannot be happening._

She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against the door, trying to regain her poise through will alone, and her eyes took in the detailed ornamentation on the ceiling. The chandelier however, needed polishing and the paint had faded and chipped, giving the overall grandeur of the room a tarnished edge.

It was infinitely more preferable to look at than the two men lying purple-faced and still at the table, and she focused on the sound of the grandfather clock ticking next to her to drown out the sound of Haines' blood dripping from swollen eye sockets and on to the oak.

She started at a knock at the door and her heart beat harder in her chest.

"Who is it?" She forced control into her voice.

"Minister, the Secretary's assistant is here to deliver his medication." Came a subservient voice from the other side. Medication? She hadn't seen either Secretary make a call for their assistants during their meeting…

 _Heero._

"Yes," she consented, a little too enthusiastically, "just a moment." She rose to her feet and paused, counting the seconds it would have taken her to move from her seat, before opening the door cautiously, careful not to let the poor maid see what was inside. There need be only one traumatised woman for now.

"Minister," her lover greeted with all the curt propriety expected of a parliamentary assistant but when his eyes locked with hers she could see the questioning there. She was immediately grateful for his presence and more so for his concern, and it felt as though his simply being there acted as a buffer from the horrible events of the morning. He closed the door behind them and she saw his eyes widen at the sight.

She knew it was less for its graphic nature and more for the implications of it.

Relena Darlian was the only surviving official in a sealed chamber.

"What happened?" he asked striding over to Haines' corpse, not even bothering to check for a pulse and instead pulling down the lower lid to see where blood had been slowly escaping this last hour. "Lock that door." He instructed firmly, and she was grateful for his control. She felt some of her own resolve returning to her.

She pressed the red button the keypad and a light affirmed that the door had once again been sealed but they would only be safe for so long. This meeting was due to end at five and an attendant late in bringing in the refreshments was unheard of.

"I wish I could tell you," she answered him honestly, but the fact of the matter was she was at a loss herself, "At first I thought Haines' blood pressure had gotten the best of him again. He was sweating, his face was turning bright red…" though the way their meeting had progressed, that was a certainly nothing out of normality.

"And him?" he nodded over to Wen Cho, taking a handkerchief from the tea trolley and dabbing at the blood freshest from Haines' eyes and nose.

"The same, almost synchronised." She grimaced. It had been horrible, choked gurgling sounds still echoing in her ear as she'd scrambled for the epi-pen she kept in her purse. She'd only had one, and at that moment it was clattered used and empty next to Wen Cho's body.

Heero seemed to follow the direction of her eyes and walked around the table to pick it up. "Is this the one I gave you?" He asked, though something in his voice told her he already suspected something afoul.

"Yes," she confirmed. She would trust very few others to provide her with injectables.

Heero's eyes narrowed at the glass syringe before wrapping another napkin around it and stuffing it hastily into his jacket.

"You need to get off this colony." He strode to the window, taking a peer through the sheer net curtains into the court yard below.

Relena paled at the suggestion. "I can't leave here," she argued, the entire suggestion seeming ludicrous, "do you have any idea how that will look?"

Heero opened the door to the balcony and a light breeze blew the curtains inwards and his hair from around his eyes. And then she saw it, dark and bright in his eyes when the rest of him stood as strong and firm as the machine he'd once piloted.

He was ready to fight. He would face whatever came at them.

He was terrified.

He held out his hand and she tentatively took a step towards him, meeting his beautiful blue eyes before laying her own hand in his. "Believe in me."

Relena felt her heart steel over at the question, and she bit her lip, the sharp sting and metallic tang bringing her back to herself.

 _Believe in me._ The voice of a younger Heero, plagued by war but at peace with the final role he would play in it, rang through her mind and in that moment she was in a space suit at Wing Zero's cockpit, looking into those same eyes.

His hand closed over hers, the artificial sun burned through her lids and the breeze whipped back her hair, and her feet rode the air.

Author Note: This won't be a very long one. I'm aiming for about 5 parts in total.


End file.
